I sit on the tile,
About to begin.
I put my wrist up and dig the razor into my skin,
I laugh at the blood as it starts to pour.
The voices start talking,
And laughing as blood gos evry whar.
I think of my sister bullying me and throw the razor down,
The voices cheer me on as I pick up a bottel of pills.
Thay remind me how many times she called me worthless,
I opend the bottel and sed goodbey to my real friends the voices in my head.
I drink the whole bottel and fall to the ground.
